Writing Trauma with Care: How I Brought Hanna’s Pain to the Page
When someone asked me,
“Your portrayal of trauma in The Lies We Whisper feels deeply personal and emotionally layered. How did you approach writing those moments—particularly Hanna’s breakdowns—while balancing authenticity with narrative tension?” I always have to pause, because it’s a question I take seriously.
Writing about trauma, especially the kind rooted in childhood—requires care. It’s not just about getting the emotion right; it’s about doing no harm while telling the truth. I wanted Hanna’s breakdowns to feel real, but never gratuitous. Human, but never helpless. And I wanted to reflect the kind of trauma that doesn’t always scream on the surface, but whispers through memory, body, and silence.
To write Hanna’s experience, I drew from trauma research and survivor narratives—particularly resources like the Breeze App, which offers digestible insight into how childhood trauma can shape our emotional wiring well into adulthood. One passage stood out to me:
“Childhood trauma refers to extremely stressful or disturbing experiences that happen during the formative years of a child's life. These experiences can disrupt a child's sense of security and well-being, triggering feelings of helplessness and potentially altering their brain development.”
That idea—that trauma can silently shape who we become was central to how I wrote Hanna. She’s not reacting to one moment. She’s reacting to years of buried pain. Of being told she was fine when she wasn’t. Of learning to cope through control, compartmentalization, and self-erasure. Her breakdowns aren’t weaknesses—they’re the unraveling of carefully constructed survival mechanisms.
The Breeze App also explains how trauma presents in different forms:
Emotional abuse
Neglect
Physical harm
Sexual boundary violations
And how it leaves long-term imprints on memory, relationships, physical health, and emotional regulation.
For me, it was important to show how trauma doesn’t just exist in backstory. It leaks into how Hanna trusts. How she sleeps. How she reacts to smell, to touch, to being alone in a room that feels too quiet. These aren’t dramatic beats—they’re the emotional rhythm of someone still learning how to feel safe.
At the same time, I had to balance that honesty with narrative tension. The Lies We Whisper is a psychological suspense novel, and I never wanted the pacing to drown under introspection. So I built the tension through her trauma—not around it. Because often, the scariest parts of survival aren’t what’s happening on the outside… it’s what’s happening inside your own mind.
In the end, Hanna’s story isn’t just about what happened to her. It’s about how she learns to live with the memories—and how that journey complicates, strengthens, and unravels the relationships around her.
If any of this resonates with you—or if you find yourself carrying something heavy and don’t know where to start—you don’t have to go through it alone.
For immediate, confidential support, you can contact the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (available 24/7 in the U.S.) by calling or texting 988, or visit 988lifeline.org.
If you're looking for ongoing support, services like BetterHelp can connect you with licensed therapists online, on your schedule.
And if Hanna’s story stayed with you—thank you. That means more than you know.
Until next time…
—𝓢𝓸𝓹𝓱𝓲𝓪
